Page 27 of Alpha’s Hated Mate (Shifters of Clarion)

“ B eautiful,” I whisper, lowering my head to plant a reverent kiss at the hollow of Saffron’s throat. “Every fucking inch of you.”

My hands cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over hardened nipples through the thin fabric of her bra before I unhook it with practiced ease. She gasps as my mouth replaces my hands, my tongue circling one sensitive peak while my fingers tease the other. The taste of her skin is intoxicating—sweet and distinctly Saffron.

“Oh, Aydan,” she moans. I feel her fingers thread through my hair, tugging slightly as her body arches into mine.

The wolf inside me growls with satisfaction, reveling in every small sound she makes. Despite the pain still radiating through my body from my injuries, I couldn’t care less. Nothing matters but this—her scent filling my lungs, her skin against my lips, the knowledge that she’s mine. My Luna. The thought alone makes me want to claim every inch of her.

I suckle harder, drawing her nipple between my teeth with a gentle bite. Saffron’s back arches sharply, a louder moan escaping her lips. I bite down again, just on the edge of pain, and her cry fills the room. I devour her breasts with hungry strokes of my tongue, alternating between them like a man starved. Each sweep across her sensitive flesh pulls more delicious sounds from her throat, feeding the primal need roaring through me.

Ignoring the ache in my ribs, I begin to lower myself to my knees. My Luna deserves worship, and I intend to give it to her. But before I can taste her, she surprises me by pulling me back up.

“Not yet,” she breathes against my lips. “My turn.”

She sinks to her knees in front of me, her fingers making quick work of my belt and zipper. She frees my cock, already hard and aching for her, and licks her lips, making my breath hitch.

The first brush of her soft lips against my sensitive head nearly undoes me. She works her way from base to tip, taking me into the wet heat of her mouth with slow, deliberate strokes, her tongue tracing every ridge and vein, as if committing each one to memory. The anticipation builds with every languid movement, pushing me to the brink of madness.

“Fuck, Saffron,” I growl, watching her take me deeper with each bob of her head.

My hand finds her hair, not guiding, just connecting, needing to touch her as she sets a rhythm that has me fighting for control. Each movement of her head, each flick of her tongue, sends waves of pleasure crashing through me, threatening to shatter the last remnants of my restraint.

The sight of her—my marked Luna on her knees, those blue eyes looking up at me with such desire—brings me dangerously close to the edge. I gently pull her off me.

“I need to be inside you when I come,” I rasp, my voice barely recognizable through the haze of desire.

I lift Saffron from her knees, ignoring the sharp protest of my injured ribs. Her slight weight is nothing compared to the overwhelming need to claim her. I guide her back on the bed, our lips never parting as we move in perfect tandem. When her legs hit the mattress, I ease her down, pausing only to remove her panties with a single, fluid motion.

“Spread your legs for me,” I command softly, my eyes locked on hers.

She complies without hesitation, opening herself to me. The sight of her—flushed and wet—sends a fresh surge of desire through my body.

I claim her mouth with my tongue while my hand travels down between her thighs, my fingers tracing the delicate folds of her slick heat.

“You’re so wet for me,” I murmur, circling my thumb around her swollen clit. “Is this all for your Alpha?”

Her hips buck up to meet my touch. “Yes, my Alpha,” she breathes. “All for you.”

I slowly press two fingers inside her, watching her face as she takes me in. Her inner walls clench around the invasion, hot and tight and perfect. I curl them upward, searching for that spot that makes her—

Saffron whimpers as her back arches off the bed, hands fisting the sheets beneath her. The sound travels straight to my already throbbing cock, making it twitch with anticipation.

“That’s it, my Luna,” I encourage, working my fingers deeper while my thumb assaults her sensitive clit. “Let me hear how good it feels.”

Her body responds instantly to my touch, her inner muscles squeezing my fingers as I thrust them in and out. I watch her face, captivated by every flutter of her eyelashes, every bite of her lower lip. The pain in my ribs fades to nothing compared to the pleasure of watching my Luna come undone.

“Please, Alpha,” she pleads. “I want all of you.”

I don’t waste a second, positioning myself between Saffron’s spread legs. My length strains against her entrance, seeking the heat I crave more than anything. I hold myself there for a moment, savoring the anticipation, the way her hips tilt upward, trying to take me in.

Pushing forward slowly, I watch my cock disappear into her tight heat inch by deliberate inch. She grips me like a vice, hot and wet and perfect.

“Fuck, Aydan—” Saffron gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders as I sink fully inside her.

Her back arches as I start to move with slow, deep thrusts. I establish a methodical rhythm, watching her face contort with pleasure as I bottom out inside her with each stroke. The wet, tight channel grips me like she is made for me, and perhaps she is—my fated mate, my Luna, my everything.

I lower my head to her breasts, capturing one rosy nipple between my lips. The taste of her skin is addictive; I suck hard enough to leave marks as I lavish attention on her sensitive flesh. I switch to the other breast, my tongue circling and teasing, drawing out more of those delicious sounds from deep within her. Her gasps turn to moans as I work her with my mouth and cock simultaneously.

“So perfect,” I rasp against her skin, circling her nipple with my tongue before pulling it between my teeth again. “You take me so well, Luna.”

Her walls spasm around me, milking my cock with a delicious friction that threatens to send me over the edge right then and there.

“Right there,” she pleads, her fingers tangling in my hair as I continue lavishing attention on her breasts. “Don’t stop, Alpha.”

I have no intention of stopping. I increase the pace slightly, my hips moving with more urgency. Every stroke brings us both closer to the edge, but I maintain control, determined to draw this out as long as possible. My mouth never leaves her breasts, sucking and biting, while my cock hits her deepest spot and causing her body to tremble beneath me.

“Come for me,” I command against her flushed skin, feeling her begin to tense around me. “Come on my cock, Luna.”

“Let go,” I urge against her flushed skin, grazing my teeth over her sensitive flesh. “Come for me, my Luna.”

As if my words alone could trigger her release, Saffron’s back arches sharply. Her inner walls clamp down on my length, as she cries out my name. The sensation of her release sends me over the edge, my own climax ripping through me with an intensity that leaves me shaking.

I thrust deep inside her one last time, spilling myself into her with a low groan. Our bodies remain locked together, riding out the aftershocks of our shared pleasure. Her arms wrap around me, holding me close, our hearts beating in unison.

As our breathing begins to slow, I lift my head to look into her sparkling blue eyes and her red hair spread across the sheets like liquid fire. The love and trust I see there is overwhelming, a reminder of why I fought so hard to declare her as my Luna, to claim her as mine in every way.

I lower my lips to hers with a soft, lingering kiss. The taste of her, the feel of her body beneath mine, the knowledge that she is my Luna—it’s everything I never knew I needed, everything I never knew I could have. And I will do everything in my power to protect it, to protect her, for as long as I live.

The setting sun paints the estate gardens in hues of amber and gold, casting long shadows across the manicured lawns. Saffron walks beside me, her hand in mine, her presence a steady warmth. The flowers of my family grounds seem to bow toward her as we pass, as if they too recognize her new status.

We both seem to enjoy the peaceful silence after visiting the pack healer, who patched up my wounds from the fight.

“Alpha Vaultmore,” a voice says from behind us.

We turn to find an elderly man hovering at the garden’s edge, his thin frame seeming to waver like the fading light. Gray hair frames a face lined with years of worry, hands clasped nervously at his waist.

“My lord,” he says with a slight bow. His eyes dart to Saffron, uncertainty written across his features. “And Luna Saffron. Forgive the intrusion.”

I step slightly forward, unsure if he is a friend or foe. “How can I help you?”

“Dr. Emile Muridae.” He clears his throat. “I was your father’s research assistant for many years.”

Tension instantly coils through my body and Saffron’s scent sharpens with anxiety beside me.

“What do you want?” My voice comes out harder than intended.

Emile’s shoulders hunch. “To apologize, firstly. I knew Nadia had fundamentally misunderstood her father’s goals behind his research on Scarlet wolves, but I had no idea she’d continued his experiments.” He wrings his hands together. “I should have spoken up sooner.”

“This is something of your father’s that you should have.” From his jacket, he produces a leather-bound journal—newer and more pristine than those we found in the lab. Its edges are barely worn. He places the journal in my reluctant hands.

“You should know that, in his final months,” Emile goes on, “Alton had . . . a profound change of heart about his research.”

I thumb through the pages, less than half are filled with my father’s meticulous handwriting.

“A change of heart?” Saffron asks in disbelief.

Emile nods, eyes downcast. “He always deeply regretted what happened with Natasha. And the experiments he conducted using Scarlet DNA without consent, even when they weren’t directly harmed.” He looks up, meeting my gaze.

“Too little, too late,” I find myself muttering without meaning to.

Emile nods with understanding. “Your father was a brilliant man who made terrible mistakes. But in the end, he wanted his research to help heal the divide he had helped create.”

Neither of us know how to respond.

Emile clears his throat. “I shall leave you both.” He offers a small smile. “My congratulations, Luna Saffron. Alpha Vaultmore.”

After Emile leaves, Saffron and I find a stone bench among the roses. The journal sits heavy between us. I run my fingers over the embossed leather, hesitant to open it.

“We don’t have to read it,” I offer.

Saffron shakes her head. “No, I want to.”

I open the journal, flipping past pages filled with equations, diagrams, and scientific notes in Father’s handwriting, until I get to a weathered bookmark. On the page is a lengthy passage where the tone shifts from clinical observation to something more profound.

I read out loud: “‘My fundamental error was seeing Scarlets and Neutrals as evolutionary anomalies to be fixed or controlled. They are, in fact, complementary forces designed to balance each other.’“

Saffron leans closer as I continue reading. My father’s research had led him to believe that historically, Scarlet-Neutral pairings had been crucial for wolf-kind’s survival during periods of great upheaval. Their combined abilities provided protection against both supernatural and mundane threats, while introducing beneficial genetic diversity into the population.

More shocking still is his theory about the persecution of Scarlets throughout history: “‘The systematic oppression of Scarlet wolves was never merely about prejudice—it was a deliberate strategy by certain power structures to prevent these balanced pairings from forming, as they represented a direct challenge to traditional Alpha dominance.’“

My throat tightens as I read his final entry: “‘The future of our kind lies not in dominance, but in balance. Scarlet and Neutral, passion and temperance, power and control—two halves of the same whole.’“

I doubt I can be surprised by anything new I learn about Alton Vaultmore anymore. The man from Saffron’s visions, the man who Nadia worshiped, and even the man in these pages are not the father and Alpha I knew—or thought I knew. He’d recognized his mistakes too late, but had hoped for change, nonetheless.

I look at Saffron, remembering all the suffering she and her mother endured because of my father’s actions. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive him . . . or Nadia, for that matter.”

Saffron touches my hand, her expression thoughtful. “I’m glad that he validated our suffering in the end. And I believe his final thoughts about the balance between Scarlets and Neutrals were genuine.”

I’m stunned that Saffron can find compassion in her heart after all the hell she’s endured. I take her hand, suddenly resolute.

It dawns on me that I can’t honor my father. I don’t want to honor my father. But I can honor my love by advocating for the protection and rights of all Scarlets.

The scent of fresh lilacs fails to calm Saffron as her fingers worry at the pleats of her pale blue dress—the one we spent hours selecting yesterday because it matches her eyes perfectly. We sit side-by-side in one of Moonhelm’s elegant meeting rooms. Waiting for the arrival of the person that will fill the empty chair across the gleaming oak table feels like an impending doom.

Three days have passed since our return from Claymore. Three days since I reasserted my rightful place as the Alpha of the Vaultmore pack and officially named Saffron as my Luna.

Even now, it seems surreal. I’d spent my entire life preparing to lead, yet it wasn’t my father’s lessons that secured my victory against Ellis—it was embracing what made me different. I have Saffron to thank for that.

My trusted lieutenants handle the day-to-day back home. The council manages the rest. Completing our education suddenly matters more than I ever imagined. Not just for me, but for us—for the future we’ll build together. Just as when I first arrived at Moonhelm, I’ve delegated my immediate responsibilities to focus on what’s in front of me—supporting my Luna.

Saffron bounces a leg up and down on the floor. Her scent—roses in full bloom—momentarily drowns out everything else.

“Hey.” I place my hand over hers and give it a squeeze, stilling her nervous movement. “It’s going to be fine.”

Her blue eyes meet mine, wide with apprehension. The Alpha King himself is minutes away from walking through that door.

“What if he hates me?” Saffron says. “What if he only sees me as the child of the people who tried to take his throne? What if he thinks I’m going to try the same thing?”

We’ve been through all of this before. Many times. I don’t mind going through it again if it’ll help ease her nerves.

The heavy oak door swings open before I can respond. Dean Fowler enters first, his thin frame practically vibrating with nervous energy. But it’s the man following him who commands every molecule of air in the room.

The Alpha King.

We both stand immediately, bowing out of instinct and respect. I’ve seen photographs, of course, but they fail to capture the sheer presence of the man. He’s taller than I expected, with broad shoulders that seem to fill the doorway. His amber eyes—sharp and assessing—scan the room before landing on Saffron with laser-like focus.

A few gray strands disperse through his long, black hair, which is pulled back neatly, enhancing the sculpted angles of his face. The navy suit he wears is immaculate, royal crest embroidered on the breast pocket, and a thick gold ring bearing the royal insignia adorns his pinky finger.

Pure power radiates from him, that unmistakable aura that makes every wolf in the vicinity want to bare their throat and cower in submission. Even my Alpha instincts struggle against the urge.

Beside me, Saffron shifts her weight uneasily.

“Your Majesty,” Dean Fowler’s voice assumes the practiced diplomatic tone he reserves for important visitors, “may I present Aydan Vaultmore, Alpha of the Vaultmore Pack, and his Luna, Saffron Kamaria.”

The dean backs toward the door with another bow. “I’ll leave you to your privacy. Please ring if you require anything at all.” The door closes with a soft click that somehow reminds me of sounds like a prison cell locking.

The Alpha King walks to the empty chair and sits down. He says, “Please, sit.” So we sit.

His gaze fixes on Saffron with unsettling intensity. His nostrils flare slightly—he’s scenting her, confirming what the blood tests already told us. Something shifts in his expression, a flicker of what might be pain, before it’s quickly masked.

“The resemblance is . . . remarkable.” His voice is deep and measured. “You have Raphael’s nose and mouth and Natasha’s eyes . . . but your hair.”

She strokes a fiery red lock and lowers her eyes, almost like she’s embarrassed. “Yes, I’m a Scarlet.”

“Intriguing,” he replies, his tone revealing nothing.

A tense silence blankets the room. Her hand finds mine under the table, gripping it tightly. I feel her pulse quicken through her fingertips. Her scent sharpening with anxiety.

The King continues to stare, and I can’t tell if his expression holds wonder or disapproval. This is the moment we’ve been dreading and anticipating in equal measure. Does he share the same prejudice against Scarlets that my own pack is guilty of? Will her likeness to her parents be enough to bridge decades of prejudice against Scarlets? Or does she only remind him of the brother who betrayed him? Saffron is now in the line of succession. Perhaps he see her as a threat to his throne and family?

The King leans in closer, and I find myself instinctively moving slightly forward in response. My wolf rising protectively to shield my Luna from whatever judgment might come, despite knowing who sits before us. The Alpha King notices, a single eyebrow arching upward before the corner of his mouth twitches—not quite a smile, but acknowledgment.